Chapter 59
Day 18 of the Warming Month, Continued 5
They say the DIC runs on tea. There is a reason for that. Strong drink may make an investigator feel like a champion, but leads to questionable decisions, emotional swings and babbling tongues. It is perfectly fine to ply the person you are investigating with these things, but if you want a clear head to realize what’s going on behind the pleasant or sad words, tea keeps you sharp.
DIC Manual
Thornfield Witstone looked at Mayor Turbot and then back at the cloth-wreathed Tibart, who took a seat in one of the chairs surrounding a low table where the wine carafe and a tray of savories sat. Whinzer refilled his glass and took a seat to the right of him. Both Turbot and Whinzer looked back at him expectantly, but something about the newcomer made the back of his neck tingle.
He took another sip of the wine Turbot had pressed in his hand as he came in. He recognized the taste. It was a vintage that came from just over the the Shadowlands, in an area well-known for its superior variety of Twilight grapes. It also was on the list of goods that only came through Redbeard’s bottleneck of unsanctioned trading. This kept the vintage at high costs, and he had only drunk it a few times.
His spikes must have reflected his pleasure at the beverage. “So you like that, do you?” Whinzer said. “Come on man, sit down. Let’s talk business.”
Thornfield looked at Turbot, who indicated one of the chairs. Turbot took the other and looked up at him, his chubby cheeks marked with an uncertain smile looking up at the Dragonkin man. “Did we choose a bad time?”
Thornfield shrugged. “A DIC VIP carriage was coming in as I left the station. I left that numbskull Umber to take care of things.”
“Any idea what it was for?” Tibart said. His voice was deep and raspy.
“Don’t know.” Thornfield took his chair. “They pop through from time to time. Getting close to yearly inspections time.” He put his glass down on the table. “It shouldn’t have much impact on what we came to talk about. In fact, it’s damn good timing. They’ll be leaving me alone for the rest of the year.”
“Fortunate indeed,” the veiled man said.
He looked up at Thornfield, and for a moment, Thornfield got a glimpse of his face, the gray pallid skin and icy blue eyes of a Trow, a people who were to the Shadowlands what the Daoine were to the Sunlit Lands. He didn’t think much of his race. There were a lot of them involved in the unsanctioned trade business, and in the towns near Brightwater they had large numbers, many who had never seen the land beyond the Boundary Wall. They were major go-betweens between merchants and the Dragonweb stations and Redbeard’s people. Yet something about this particular man made him feel uncomfortable.
“That’s true. They’ll leave me alone long enough that we can get the new system set up,” Thornfield said. “We’ll figure out how to deal with next year’s audit in plenty of time.” He reached for one of the savories on the table. “Tell me again, what the deal we’re looking at consists of.”
The Trow shifted. “As you know, the consortium I represent bypasses the Brightwater gang and Redbeard’s cut on incoming merchandise. It works out to something like a fifteen or twenty percent discount to Redbeard’s prices. Whether you pass them onto your customer base, or pocket the difference is no matter to us.”
Turbot’s eyes brightened at the mention of the discounts.
“How are you getting this stuff across the barrier?” Thornfield asked.
“Let’s just call that a trade secret,” Tibart said. “But if you’re worried about our ability to deliver as promised, we are willing to let you do a trial period. Just give us a quarter of your orders this month, and half next month, and see how we perform.”
“And what’s our part of the deal,” Turbot asked.
Tibart picked up his wine glass and looked deep into the red liquid. “It’s not that much. We will send you shipments of things you request. Once a month, we will also send a special shipment marked by our logo. Do not open these. They will be picked up by one of our people who knows what to do next.”
He took a sip of his wine. “I cannot stress the importance of not sticking your nose into what you are being asked to ignore. Beyond that, we want you to be our eyes here. We will ask for information. Right now we are interested in the movements of certain people.” He put his glass down, reached into his sleeve, and took out a rolled up piece of paper, which he handed to Thornfield. “This is more your line of work than Mayor Turbot’s.”
Thornfield unrolled the paper. It was covered with a list of names done in fine, elegant handwriting. His eyebrows raised as he read it. “You want information about the comings and goings of Arriane Allyns?”
“We do. She is busy at school with the White Circle, and as you might guess, the White Circle doesn’t quite approve of what we are doing. Her movements might help us stay ahead of any actions they may try to do to…interfere...with our operations here.”
“The apothecary? Why?” Thornfield asked.
“Potential customer,” Tibart said. “We are interested in who he is getting his supplies from.”
“Lana Redstone?” Thornhill rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s just one of the clerks at the Dragonweb counter.”
“Her father – Anthin Redstone is far more than just the type of man who is worth ignoring. A power broker who has come into our sights lately. Anything we can learn about him will benefit our alliance.”
“And who is this Gan Thistleberry? I don’t even know her name.”
Tibart smiled. “I’m not sure why she’s on the list, but she knows so many people – friends with Lady Elaine, for one. She just moved here recently, from Comrie. I hear she’s also friends with Lady Arriane.” He leaned back in his chair.
“So men, you hear our terms. What say you?”
Turbot nodded. “Sounds acceptable to me.”
Thornfield drained his glass. “Count me in.”
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Later that afternoon, beneath a large sign that welcomed visitors to the Goblin’s Rest Inn, a young man who carried himself with the look of a military man, but who was dressed in the clothes of a local farmer, walked into the common room.
It was too early for the crowd who would fill the tap room up after their day’s labors, and the room was not very crowded. Tilly, the bar maid, was wiping the counter down as the man walked in.
“Why, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Taran Woodway?” Tilly said, stopping what she was doing. “Been a long time since you last walked through those doors.”
He walked over to the bar. “Been busy with the King’s business down by the Boundary Lands, but they gave me a leave. Got here as quick as I could,” he said, leaning against the wooden counter. “Sounds like you missed me.”
“Maybe. Some. See your brother sometimes, when he gets off from the smithy, and once in a great while, your little brother will stop by, but Lady Elaine’s been keeping him busy with that friend of hers who moved in.” She filled a tankard of ale and handed it to him. “This one’s on the house for our brave soldier. How’s your mother doing?”
“Thanks, Tilly. I needed that.” He picked up the tankard and took a sip. “How’s Ma? She’s been keeping busy. I think that little brother of mine is the first one of us who’s going to get married, and she’s doing all sorts of things to get ready.” He sighed. “I’ve missed a lot being away, it seems.”
“Well, Rob’s Lily is a lovely girl. I talk to her sometimes at the cafe. I think you’ll like having her for a sister – if you ever get to come home and stay for awhile.”
“Maybe that day will happen,” Taran said, although his tone wasn’t particularly hopeful. “Lots of work to do with the King’s Guard first, though.” He turned his back to the bar to look around the room, and saw a familiar face. “Excuse me, Tilly.” Taking his tankard he walked across the room.
While Taran chatted to Tilly, Gweir Blackthorne sat in a corner of the common room, not paying any attention to what was going on at the bar, his hand curled around a tankard of ale, his eyes staring into the big fireplace against the far wall, a dark, serious glower to his face, a warning in a way to leave him alone. As he was the spouse of Lady Elaine Allyns, and thus the nobleman of this area, and well-known, he needed no other warnings to be left in peace for his brooding. Even Tilly had made a point to stay away as much as possible.
The glower did not stop Taran, who headed directly to Gweir’s table. “Captain?” he said, standing next to the older man.
Gweir shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Woodway?” His dark look softened a bit as he looked up at the young soldier. “You managed to get away from your father today?”
“Wasn’t hard,” Taran said, sitting down at the table next to Gweir. “I think he ran out of stories to tell.”
Gweir shook his head. “Your father? Run out of stories? Impossible.”
Taran took a draw on his ale. “You know us too well, Captain. Truth is, I escaped. Maybe I’ve been away from home too long. It kind of feels like the walls are closing in on me.”
“I understand that one,” Gweir said, picking up his own tankard. “We’ve been on leave five days, and I’ve been home four of them. Somehow, today, the quietness, the normalcy of it all...it almost feels like...like…”
“Like it’s someone else’s life?” Taran said.
Gweir looked up at his companion and smiled, a bitter sad smile. “Happening to you, too?”
“My Ma means well. She’s been fixing all my favorite foods, and telling me all about what’s been happening to my brothers. She’s really excited for Rob getting married later this year.” He leaned forward and rested his left elbow on the table, while drawing stick figures in a bit of spilled beer with his right hand. “My sisters keep inviting their girlfriends over, hoping one of them catch my fancy. I’ve known them all since we were in swaddling, and they’re all more like sisters to me than anybody I’d want to pair off with. Yesterday I tried to help my Da around the farm to have something to do, but he shooed me away. Rob’s already done the spring plowing and it’s too early for the weeding. So today, I came to town. Walked it instead of rode, to kill more time.” He signaled to Tilly, who was with another customer, and she nodded at him. “I thought maybe I might be able to talk to Pash at the smithy, but he was too busy working on a rush order, and most of my old gang of friends are busy with their adult lives and don’t have time to hang out with people on leave.”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Is it bad that this doesn’t feel like home any more? I keep thinking about being back in camp where I know what to do when without feeling guilty. I miss it.”
Tilly walked over with two tankards on a tray. “You two want anything else?”
“Ah, Tilly my sweet, you know just how to win a man’s heart,” Taran said. “Any stew ready yet? I missed my lunch.”
“I’ll check. If not stew, I’ll bring something. If just to hear you say all those sweet things I know you don’t mean. A man like you needs more than beer in his belly.” She turned to Gweir. “And you, Milord?”
“Stew sounds good,” he said nodding.
“I’ll be right back,” the barmaid said.
They watched Tilly walk back to the front of the bar and then over towards the kitchens.
Gweir finished the last of the ale in his old tankard. “I was supposed to go out with my boy today, but I woke up in such a foul mood, all I wanted to do was escape. I thought Edelkyn was going to skin me alive when I announced I was going hunting.”
“Nana Edelkyn can be scary when she thinks you’re in the wrong,” Taran said. “I still remember the time she caught me dragging baby Rob up on the stable roof when he was only three.” He rubbed his backside. “I still remember that switching.”
Gweir chuckled, a genuine laugh this time. “I think she would have done the same thing to me this morning if she could have gotten away with it. I know Elaine was disappointed, but she could see the mood on me.”
Taran drained the last sip out of his tankard, pushed it to the center of the table, and pulled the fresh one towards him. “How’d the hunt go?”
“Too easy. Got my deer before I had gotten a chance to outride my restlessness. Rizzi went out with me. He’s turned into a pretty good squire. You remember Rizzi?”
“Rizzi...let me think,” Taran said. “Hmm...Last time I saw him, he wasn’t any taller than this table. Shock of bright red hair and freckles everywhere. Really big ears.”
“He’s a bit taller now,” Gweir said. “Still has the bright red hair and freckles. Really talented tracking animals. Elaine uses him as her gamekeeper, although most of his work is keeping rabbits and deer out of the gardens.”
Tilly walked back into the common room, carrying a tray. She headed towards their table.
“Anyway, I sent Rizzi home with the deer, and just rode for a while. It’s interesting how woodlands change. You don’t notice if you’re walking through them all the time, but be gone for a while…”
“Did you get lost, Captain? In your own woodland?” Taran picked up his fresh tankard.
“Almost.” He gave his underling a rather sheepish grin that said just how lost he was. “Then I found the road, and before long, I was here.” He took a sip of his ale. “There are worse places to end up.”
Tilly reached them with her tray. “Well, it’s not tonight’s stew. It’s this afternoon’s soup. Potato and onion, and bread fresh out of the oven. I hope this will do.”
“Reshin’s potato soup? How did I get so lucky?” Taran said, as Tilly put a bowl in front of him.
“Your mother’s prayers, probably,” Tilly replied as she put a basket of bread down, and a bowl in front of Gweir. “Soup will do you more good than what’s in your tankard.”
“That’s odd talk from a barkeep,” Taran replied.
“Only do it when I care about the person,” Tilly said. With a little wave, she headed back to her station at the bar.
Taran dipped his spoon into the soup. It was creamy, with flecks of pepper and little rafts of melted butter floating on the surface. “Umm. Good. Now this is one thing I do miss. Military cooks just can’t match this.”
“True,” Gweir said. “Like Edelkyn’s scones.” He dipped his spoon into his own bowl.
The two men ate mostly in silence for awhile. Taran lifted up his bowl to get the last of his soup, took a drink from his tankard, then wiped his mouth. “It’s been good sharing a meal with you, Captain. But I’d like to see if my brother is less busy now. I really wanted to talk to him. He doesn’t come to Da’s very often any more.” He stood up.
Gweir put his spoon down and stood up as well. “Maybe...maybe it’s time I should go home, too.”
“Might be a good time to make new plans with your boy. Maybe you can get Rizzi to show him how to hunt rabbits or something.”
Gweir nodded. “Maybe. He’d like that, I think.”
They headed for the counter where they paid Tilly.
“I see the soup has worked its magic,” she said, pocketing the tip Gweir gave her.
“Or something like that, best of all barkeeps” Taran said.
She laughed as the two of them headed for the front. As they made it to the foyer that separated the sleeping side of the inn from the bar, two Dragonkin men walked in. Taran stopped a moment, and looked at the two of them who were walking up to the counter.
“Hey Captain, didn’t we see the taller guy on our mission?”
Gweir nodded. “That’s Asper Bloodstone. He works close with Commander Byrony. I wonder what is bringing them to Goblin Market? It’s not the soup, as good as it is.”
Asper noted Gweir looking at them. He nodded, but made no move to call him over.
“I’ll guess we’ll find out later, or not,” he said, and the two men headed out of the door.